


Warm in December

by viceversa



Category: NCIS
Genre: 12 Days of Slibbs, Being Corny, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Mistletoe, Prompt Fill, Pure sap, References to Frank Sinatra, Secret Santa, christmas tropes, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21627073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: Gibbs likes Christmas because his family is around him. Jack likes Christmas because she likes Gibbs.-My prompt fills for the 12 Days of Slibbs. All the chapters are connected in one long story.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 87
Kudos: 237
Collections: 12 Days of Slibbs, Favourite Fanfictions





	1. 1. Snowball fight / building a snowman

**Author's Note:**

> 12 Day of Slibbs Prompts: I chose to write 12 chapters of one story, following the prompts from @unreliablenarratorink and @spacecowboybriony in order. Each chapter will be various lengths, switching POV between Jack and Gibbs every chapter or two! I will say that this is some of the sappiest / fluffiest content I’ve ever written and I love it.
> 
> I’ll post one a day (hopefully) from Dec.1st through 12th! Please let me know what you think, and find me on tumblr @viceversawrites

Winter. Cold, icy, inconvenient. At least it wasn’t summer - the only thing worse than snow was the D.C. humidity. But hell, at his age his joints didn’t like either extreme. 

For years now, the neighborhood kids had used his front lawn - even as small as it was - for any number of winter activities. Obviously Gibbs had given a general okay for them to be out there, at least in the day time. It was entertaining to come home to a random snowman or unidentifiable snow-animal welcoming him home. Better his yard than the street. No one else was there to play in it after all.

On a particularly cold Saturday morning in late November, he walked outside in the midst of a snowball fight. Before he could whistle and get their attention, he was been pelted in the chest, the snowball exploding into ice all over him. 

He recognized the boys amidst their coats and hats as Josh and Devin, brothers from a few houses down. They paused in their battle with comically wide eyes. They were only kids, not quite teenagers, and were probably fighting in his yard because their parents said not to. 

The Greene’s were overprotective in Gibbs’ opinion. He thought, yeah, let the kids play outside. Even if it meant the occasional wild snowball to the sternum, there were only so many winters in their future for this kind of brotherly fun.

“Mr. Gibbs, I—“

“It was Devin! He threw it!” 

“Shut up it was you!” 

“Nuh-uh!”

Using their argument as cover, Gibbs quickly scooped up two snowballs of his own. They were loosely packed and more for show than anything else. There were only a few ways to end this argument and panic peacefully, and this de-escalation was an advanced tactic. 

“Hey!” Gibbs shouted. 

Two heads whipped toward him, but neither had time to react. Two identical snowballs exploded into powder on their jacketed shoulders, and Gibbs watched as their mouths dropped open in shock. 

He was more than aware of the hard-ass reputation he had acquired, even around his neighborhood. His job demanded it of him, and he was comfortable assuming that role in the eyes of his team and superiors.

Besides, it made it all the easier to shock everyone when he let his other sides shine through. 

He turned and walked to his truck, on his way to work on a Saturday. “Payback’s fair game,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Be careful!”

Over the hum of the engine he heard the boys yell out “Thanks Mr. Gibbs!” 

He smiled halfway to work.

-

Of course it would be a shit day. The ones that start out calm and fun always seem to turn to shit anyway. He should’ve expected it by now. 

A break in the case gave him a bad feeling in his gut, but the team deployed anyway. Jack tagged along, since they were one man down with McGee tracking the last of the online leads to wrap up the case, and she’d been witness to a particularly awful takedown. 

Mainly, a particularly scary one for Gibbs. For them all. 

The suspect had been in their sights, but he was alerted to their presence before they could move in. He took shelter in the dilapidated shed on his property and started firing. 

Torres and Bishop were in the rear, but their positon wasn’t helpful. With no vantage points to aim they had to move in from the side, at that was tricky. 

Gibbs was out front, hiding behind a broken down truck covered in snow, and he served as the main target. Sloane was somewhere behind him, more sheltered by the side of the house they’d just chased the suspect out of.

_ “I’ve gone as far as I can, I’ve got nothing.”  _ Torres’ voice came over the earwigs. He was trapped to the left behind some barrels and rusted-out parts. Any closer would bring him within sight of the shooter with no way to shoot back accurately. 

“Hold your position, Torres.” Gibbs ducked up to glance and confirm positions, nearly getting his head shot in the process. “Yeah, I’m pretty well trapped here too.” 

_ “I got it,”  _ Bishop said.  _ “I can get to Gibbs. Sloane, Torres, cover for me on my count.” _

_ “Bishop, stand down, you can’t make it.”  _ Sloane called out.  _ “We haven’t got the advantage here.” _

_ “What do you expect us to do?”  _ Torres said testily.  _ “Wait him out? He’s a mad man with a shed full of ammunition for all we know!” _

_ “I can make it,” _ said Bishop. And Gibbs knew that tone of voice from her. There wasn’t anything anyone could say. Even if Jack tried. 

_ “Bishop! Hold your--” _

_ “Cover me!” _

Gibbs watched as Sloane ducked from her cover, retreating quickly to dodge bullets. Time slowed, and he was already on his way up to cover again - despite his proximity - when Bishop cried out.

Worst case scenarios ran through is brain, a million images of anything, and before he could think he was in front of the truck shooting through the shed door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Torres make a dash for Ellie’s position. 

_ “Gibbs! You idiot!” _ Jack yelled, likely closing in to the truck. 

Gibbs was laser focused, seeing the movement through the window even as the gun kept trying to shoot him, and with his second to last bullet the shooting stopped. 

He took half a beat to make sure the suspect was down before turning to check on Ellie.    


“ Bishop?” Was she shot? Was she going to be okay? 

“I’m fine,” a groan issued after the statement. Gibbs watched incredulously as Nick helped her stand. “Just slipped. Must’ve hit a patch of ice under the snow.”

Feeling the adrenaline bottom out in his system, Gibbs rolled his eyes and smirked in relief. He let Nick handle Ellie, who was limping slightly, and turned to the shed. 

Jack had gone in to make sure the suspect was down and she confirmed it with a nod. Gibbs was about to say something - something like  _ Hey, Jack, I’m glad you didn’t get shot, wanna come to my place for a drink tonight? _ But Jack just brushed past him and walked back toward the cars.

-

Through Palmer’s arrival, processing the scene, the drive back, and the paperwork at the office, Jack was nowhere to be seen. She was either blatantly avoiding him or something was wrong, so when Gibbs was done with his share of it all he went to find her. 

But she wasn’t in her office, nor was she anywhere he looked. He even called her, wanting to make sure she was okay, but only got her voicemail. 

Worried, but not to the point of tracking her phone, Gibbs left the team to close up the case. All the way home, he thought about Jack. To be honest, he was still buzzing with the adrenaline and fear from the shootout earlier - anything could have happened to any of them. Just the thought of losing Jack, or even seeing her hurt - it sent him spiraling. 

His gut calmed slightly when he saw her Mini in his driveway. Maybe they could have that drink after all. Gibbs parked and got out of his truck, but before he could go inside he was stopped by her voice. 

“Fuck you, Gibbs!”

He spun around. Jack was standing in his front yard, breathing hard like she’d been pacing. It was dark, but through the trees the streetlights made the snow and ice glow, illuminating her and what looked like the decapitated remains of several small snowmen around her.

“Jack? What’re-”

The last thing he expected was a snowball hitting him nearly in the same spot as that morning, except this time it was more dust than ice and he barely felt it. 

He looked up again and, oh, that hurt him. The look on her face pierced his heart, and he was instantly mad at himself for doing whatever he did to make her feel that.

“Fuck you.” The refrain came out half-broken, close to tears. “Fuck you, for what you did today. You could’ve died like it was nothing.”

“Jack,” Gibbs walked closer to her, even as she flinched but held her ground. “I was fine. The guy was down immediately, and--”

“You didn’t see what I saw.” Her eyes stopped him cold. Red-rimmed and shining, they still took his breath away. “You were too close. I saw the whole field. You just reacted, you didn’t wait, you didn’t keep your cover, you just leapt up in front of a shooter.”

“Bishop was down,” he tried to justify himself, but he knew just as well as she that it was a snap judgment. 

“Bishop was fine!”

Gibbs held out his hands to his side, hopeless as to what to say. Nothing like this had bothered Jack before - nothing brought her to damn tears. 

“I don’t--”

“You could’ve died,” she continued, sniffing. Her voice had gone flat and quiet. “Been shot in the head. Gone down for nothing, right in front of me. Of us.”

“I didn’t. I’m okay.” His only move left was reassurance. 

“I was too far away to help.”

“You helped plenty. Bishop didn’t listen - I’ve talked with her about it already.”

Something in her visibly deflated, and she looked down at the snow. “Bishop nearly got you shot.”

Gibbs took the last steps toward her. “No, no, that was all me.” Slowly, watching her reaction, he brought his hand up to her face, smoothing a tear away from her cheek as she looked up. “My fault. Jumped in head first, like usual. If you’re gonna be upset with me, fine. No need blamin’ anyone else, alright?”   


Jack smacked his arm away from her face and practically lunged up, her hands wrapping around his head and bringing it down to kiss his lips. Gibbs was too shocked to react as first, waiting a beat before his arms went around her and he kissed her back. 

This was a hell of a lot better than the drink he was hoping for.

They broke off after a minute for lack of air, but they kept wrapped up in each other. 

“You still mad at me,” said Gibbs, kissing her lightly again just because he could, “or do you need to take it out on some more defenseless snowpeople?”

Jack smacked the back of his head and stepped back. She walked away and he stood there, stunned, before her voice called from behind him. 

“You comin’ in or what?”

He turned and chased her up the stairs, visions of a roaring fire, good bourbon, and most of all Jack, dancing in his head.

  
  



	2. 2. Finding / decorating a tree

“Christmas is… fine.” The sigh that came out of her mouth was unintentional but deeply felt. Jack has never been a Christmas lover, not even when she was a kid. Sure, presents were nice, but she could’ve done without playing referee between her parents before their divorce and then being shuffled back and forth between homes after that. 

For her childhood, Christmas had been a separation from school - which she missed instead of enjoying the freedom - and a time of stress with her family. In college, it was a welcome break but not much more, even if she enjoyed the occasional Christmas movie. The sappiness and romance of those were a nice escape, at least. 

Her best Christmases were the years she spent in the army. Christmas in the desert was a party - a morale boost, a time to relax. Her friends and fellow soldiers missed home, but they celebrated like family should celebrate. 

Since then? She hadn’t given it much thought. In California, the weather wasn’t much different from the rest of the year. There was no snow to celebrate, even while rampant consumerism still overtook shopping malls and commercials. After day two of hearing Christmas music everywhere she went, she was pretty much done with it.

But this didn’t mean she hated the holiday. Sure, she didn’t like certain things surrounding it - the above mentioned consumerism, the importance and expectations and echoes of the anxiety of Christmas past. She was old enough to appreciate the break, the lightened mood of those around her, and the excuse to spend more time with her chosen family outside of work.

She was, however, a little resistant to the actual decorating and the making an effort. 

“C’mon. You’ll like pickin’ out a tree anyway. Get to chop it down and everything.”

Jack certainly didn’t expect Gibbs to be so looking forward to the holiday. Though, she supposed, his family had only grown larger in recent years. It made sense to decorate, celebrate, to take time and be grateful. She didn’t decorate, she’d never had a reason to. Back in California she’d had a wreath on her door but that was about it. She never hosted the parties. Never had the family to invite over.

“I’ll let you carry the saw?” 

Jack smiled at Gibbs’ attempt to excite her and heaved herself off his couch. “Alright. I’m sold.” 

Despite his hard exterior, Gibbs knew when to push for, well for lack of a better word, for fun. That was one thing she hadn’t expected when stepping into a relationship with the man - not that she even expected that. 

The kiss she attacked him with the week and a half previous was an impulse decision. She was pissed off, heated because of how scared she was. But it had turned into something, well. Something passionate and strong, an extension of their friendship. When it came down to it, they both really enjoyed the company of the other, and this development was icing on the cake.

-

“So, what, we just pick one and start hacking?”

They had driven out in Gibbs’ truck to a tree farm in the middle of nowhere. Gibbs had pulled up, said something to a guy named Bob, and they’d gone through a gate and onto the property. Trees of all sizes surrounded them, and not a soul was in sight. 

True to his word, Gibbs at least let her carry the bow saw.

“Yep. C’mon.” He started walking into the snowy, sparse forest, and she followed. 

Of course he was traditionalist enough to insist on a real tree. Jack walked behind him for a few minutes until he stopped suddenly and she almost ran into him. She took a second just to look at him, dressed in his flannel, warm jacket, and beanie hat. He looked adorable as much as he fully presented the image of buff mountain man. She laughed to herself imagining his reaction to be called either of those things. 

“How about one ‘a these?” Gibbs gestured to a group of average-sized trees, all about seven feet tall but skinny enough to fit in his living room. He looked at her, and she startled at being expected to answer. 

“Oh, you want me to choose? Um,” she looked at her options, trying to find the best one. Not finding much differences in them, she walked to the nearest one and went around it, making sure it looked even throughout. “This one?”

“Looks good.”

Jack nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “What’s next - we sneak up on it? Is there a tree blind by a herd of deer someplace? Douse ourselves in sap so we don’t spook it?”

Just like she knew he would, Gibbs rolled his eyes and laughed at her antics, pressing forward and dragging her along to the tree.

“Now, ever cut down a tree before?”

Jack looked at him like he was crazy. Of course she hadn’t. Gibbs came up behind her and she suddenly saw the benefits of being taught. She was enveloped in his warmth, adjusting her stance as he moved her closer to the tree with his body, pointing at the tree as he went.

He slid his hands down her arms and adjusted the grip she had on the handle of the bow saw. He’d insisted that she wear his work gloves if she was going to cut down the tree. They were warm, if a little big on her. 

“Yah, like that. Both hands. Okay.”

Reluctantly, on both of their parts, he stepped back from his unnecessary (even as she found it very helpful) embrace and kneeled on the ground next to the tree. “You’ll wanna start here. I’ll hold up the branches.”

Jack got into position, thankful that the ground was relatively dry and free of snow where they were at.

“Full strokes. It’ll take a minute. Let the teeth do their work.”

Jack let out a breath and got to work, an encouraging and patient Gibbs right by her holding on to the tree.

-

“Well that was definitely a new experience. Fun, though. Now I can say I’ve chopped down a tree anyway. Good exercise. See now why mountain men are all so buff.” Her glance at his arms didn’t go unnoticed.

Gibbs huffed out a laugh, starting up the truck with their prize secured in the bed.   
“Did pretty good too. ‘Cept when it almost fell on ya.”

“Hey!” she said, knowing full well she was being teased. “I ducked out of the way!”

He just smiled in return, rolling down his window and paying Christmas Tree Bob the appropriate amount. Jack fiddled with the heat and then the radio until she found an oldies station that played the classic Christmas music, not the over-commercialized cacophony that was everywhere else. 

“Did you always have a real tree growing up?” Jack asked. Her family always had a plastic tree, not wanting to deal with the mess and effort. They had just made everything else about Christmas a mess instead.

“Yep. Every year ‘til mom passed. She insisted - loved the smell. Jus’ me and dad, we didn’t care about decoratin’ as much.”

With this newness of their relationship, Jack had seen more of Gibbs’ genuine side, his personal side, than she’d ever expected. Here he was, the first week of December, going out to get a tree so that the people who stopped by his home would feel welcome and happy the whole month. 

For someone so closed off at his job, he was practically an open book when it came to his personal life once you were a _part_ of his personal life. Jack wondered how much she had Grace to thank for that, and decided to ask the obvious question. 

“And you revived the tradition with Shannon?”

“Mmmhmm.” Gibbs paused, gathering his thoughts. “Not the first year. Our apartment was too small, but we got a little one the next year, then a full size one when we moved.”

Jack listened with interest, knowing that Christmas likely held plenty of ghosts for him as well. “Did Kelly like Christmas? Get into Santa Claus and all that?” Jack often wondered about her own Faith - what kind of kid she’d be, if she fell for the Santa stuff or if she was precocious enough to figure it out. The first few years after she gave her up for adoption, every holiday was spent wondering. To be honest, she never stopped. 

“Yeah.” Gibbs paused and smiled, not hesitating to continue his answer. “Loved it. Come December first, she’d start doin’ all her chores and more, being’ extra nice to teachers and everything. I still have ornaments she made.” His voice trailed off, lost in a memory for a second, and Jack let him be. 

Lost in her own mind too, they drove back to the city in relative silence, the radio playing faint Christmas melodies. After a few miles, his hand slid over the seat and grasped hers, and she hung on to his warmth with both hands, looking forward to decorating with him this year. Looking forward to everything with him.


	3. Ugly Sweater

“Aww, Palmer. That sweater is…” Jack was at a loss for words, stuck between delight and horror. When she’d rounded the corner to drop off a file on McGee’s desk, she hadn’t expected to see Palmer, or to be blinded by what he was wearing. 

To be honest, she jumped a little at the sight.

“Isn’t it great?” Jimmy tugged out at his sweater, taking another look at it. LED lights lit up a knitted Christmas tree, blinking off and on in a multi-colored rainbow. Baubles and presents hung off it in 3D, and real garland criss-crossed all the way down.

In the dim lighting of the bullpen at night, the lights were extra bright. “No one came down to see me today except Kasie so I wanted to show it off before I left. Breena has a matching one, and we thought we’d spread some holiday cheer.”

In their respective offices of a morgue and a funeral home? Sounds about right for them. 

“It’s great, Jimmy. I love it.” Jack decided to be encouraging. Doctor Jimmy Palmer was a rare light in the world, optimistic almost to a fault. “Really, it’s… bold. And bright!”

And truly, truly ugly. Jack had heard of ugly Christmas sweaters thriving in contests and office holiday parties. But she’d hadn’t seen one worn just… for fun? Maybe a regular, winter sweater, but never a garment that lit up outside of a forced, special occasion. The most festive sweater she owned was a general, winter sweater for any occasion. She had to buy several the first winter she lived in D.C. 

“Thanks Jack.” Jimmy looked around and, seeing that the team was either out or gone home, zipped up his coat, muffling the flashing glow of his sweater. “Um, well, good night!” With another flash of a genuine smile, Jimmy walked off to the elevator. 

-

Surprisingly, Jack’s thoughts were haunted by Jimmy Palmer on the drive home. It wasn’t his awful (truly bad, so bad even the colors clashed) sweater that occupied her, no. It was… well it was the smile on his face when he talked about Breena. 

It must be true, true love to wear matching sweaters that bad. 

And it was more than their poor taste in Christmas spirit. Jimmy and Breena were the real deal. She could tell by the way he talked about her, and from the few times she’d met Breena and Victoria. That kind of love, the commitment and reverence and delight present in even thinking about your romantic partner - it made Jack wonder.

Maybe it had something to do with the season that made her feel so introspective. Christmas was traditionally a holiday where one thought about the past, about their ghosts and family and friends gone by. Love and Christmas had gone together since Christmas was invented, and it was heightened when Hollywood saw opportunity in the season and ran with it.  _ Find your true love under the mistletoe. Give your significant other this expensive gift to show them how much you care. _

The Palmers didn’t need diamonds or bad greeting cards to prove their love on Christmas. They did it easily, by wearing  _ horrid _ sweaters and smiling when they talked about each other and their child. 

_ Love should be simple and easy, just like that _ , thought Jack. 

Okay, maybe she was getting a little sappy in her old age. 

-

The fire was lit, the bourbon was poured, and a fuzzy blanket awaited her on the couch when she entered Gibbs’ place. This had been her second home for the last handful of weeks, ever since she’d almost lost him and then kissed him on the same day. 

That night was full of an incredible sense of terror and excitement - the fear of rejection and loss being pushed aside with Gibbs’ returning of her feelings.    


Well, talk of feelings happened a little later, a little after they’d gotten naked and confirmed they were both alive and whole. And, even then, the feelings talk happened after bourbon, half-asleep and very satied. 

But, God, with their respective baggage load they could crash a plane. 

Jack hadn’t let herself question it too much, this thing between them. It felt easy, and she wanted it to be easy. She wanted it to be a gentle evolution of their friendship, and easy slide into something more. Even though it was undefined, and even with the feelings that came out with the bourbon that night, Jack feared that what they had was fragile. That one misstep, one wrong move, could send it spiraling away from their grasp. 

Okay, the season could bring out the maudlin in her too.

Jack saw an ugly sweater and in the space between that and driving to Gibbs’, it sent her seriously thinking about the integrity of her  _ new _ relationship. 

But then she walked inside and saw the fire, the bourbon, the blanket, and Gibbs on the couch with her reading glasses perched on his nose, halfway through a well-read Western, and she melted. She dropped her bag in its usual spot on the table by the door, hung up her coat, and walked ouver.   


“Hey,” said Gibbs. 

Jack came around to greet him with a kiss, feeling the full weight of domestication in the act and reveling in it. 

“Get everythin’ finished up?”

The way he looked, peering over her glasses, so casually but genuinely interested - it made her so happy almost to the point of tears, the feeling swelling in her chest as she kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch next to him. 

“Reports are in, and that follow up for McGee is done. I am ready - more than ready - for this weekend.” Jack said, wiggling to get comfortable and pulling the blanket over her. 

Gibbs smiled in response and went back to his book. Jack leaned forward and poured herself a finger of bourbon, then relaxed back into the cushions. She closed her eyes for a moment, content with life, and took a sip. After a minute of meditation, she felt Gibbs’ hand slide across her blanket, settling on her thigh.    


She opened her eyes and looked at him, just sitting next to her, reading a book, his hand on her more for simple contact than anything else. Her eyes welled unexpectedly, the culmination of a long week and overthinking. 

_ Love can be easy, just like this. _

Jack covered his hand with hers, turning it until their palms lined up, warm and comforting. If every evening could end like this, she wouldn’t complain. But she knew it couldn’t - not with their jobs and personalities. She liked her life a little unpredictable, as long as she and those she loved were safe at the end of the day. So she took a moment to be intentionally grateful, sending up her thanks to whomever or whatever was out there listening. 

-

A stretch of time later, Gibbs had put down his book, taken off his (well, her) reading glasses, and was peacefully dozing when Jack woke up from a light nap herself. 

“Hey, Gibbs, hon,” she nudged him a little to wake him. 

Together they picked up the living room, putting glasses in the kitchen and taking care of the fire. Side by side, they bumped up the stairs, sleepily getting settled to go to bed. 

As she drifted off to sleep beside him, Jack thought that, yeah, she could probably cajole Gibbs into wearing an awful sweater for her. She smiled as the image of him in Jimmy’s sweater came to mind, but she knew it wasn’t their style.  This evening was testament enough to that.

Their love that night wasn’t passionate, hot sex (even if it was some nights). That night it was simple. Warm, quiet, domestic. Ugly sweater love.


	4. Office Holiday Party

Mandatory Requirement. The words that Leon used with a big smile on his face - the smile that said  _ Show up or I’ll unleash bureaucratic hell on you _ . He originally gave himself an hour before he could exit. 

At least someone had spiked the eggnog just enough to take the edge off, and at least it was happening in the evidence garage and not someplace stuffy upstairs. The annual office holiday party - an event he’d avoided more often than not in his many, many years of service. 

Jack made him wear his nice green shirt, saying something about it being “festive” and then muttering about ugly sweaters. Gibbs usually does listen to what Jack has to say. He had more than enough reasons to be invested in her thoughts and opinions, but he was distracted by how good she looked in her dark red dress made out of some sweater material. And those boots - the tall ones. 

_ Damn good.  _

He was so distracted, in fact, that she led him to his car and they drove in together, making it less and less likely that he’d be getting out of this party in a reasonable amount of time. Jack was a social person. She was the type to make sure everyone was having a good time, to listen to ramblings both drunk and sober and offer her advice. 

He was quickly proved correct when, a little over an hour (and past his original time to get the hell out) into the party, he’d consumed enough eggnog-spiked-with-something (he suspected Ducky’s brandy stash) that he was no longer comfortable with driving, but not quite enough to actively want to be there. 

Sure, Gibbs loved his family. He looks forward to seeing them in this type of environment - in small chunks, and in limited scope. This office party was everyone from the secretaries to Vance, and as it went on the  _ festivities _ grew in volume. 

As soon as they entered the party, Jack split off from him. He took the sign as usual. Keeping this relationship as out of the office as possible. Even out of the office party. So it goes.

He found a corner table to sit in, between the evidence locker chainlink and the elevator, quiet enough but a good location to observe the whole party. 

The evidence garage team had decorated. The fence was criss-crossed in twinkling lights and a huge tree was set up by the doors. Gibbs smiled when he saw it, reminded of Christmas tree “hunting,” as she called it, with Jack just the week before. Not for the first time in the last two years, he counted himself damn lucky - almost beyond belief - that Jack would look twice at him. 

And then this thing between them escalated, was reciprocated, and had been gaining strength in just a few weeks. This month flipped him upside down in the best way possible, and Jack was… Jack was a dream. 

He kept his eye on her as she moved around the party, talking to everyone she could. Agents and others flitted in and out of her circle, laughing at her jokes and in turn telling their own. Gibbs knew she could ‘turn it on,’ as it were. Her charisma. He also knew how exhausting it could be to maintain, so he looked for any sign she was fading. 

Palmer and Breena visited his table briefly. Breena showed him new pictures of Victoria and Jimmy said that she asked about ‘Grandpa Gibbs’ a few days earlier. He tried to hide the rush of warmth he felt at the title but his smile shone through, assuring them both that he’d see her before Christmas.

They left soon after, needing to relieve the babysitter. His team were similarly in and out, likely up to no good no matter their intention. Kasie came by, introducing Gibbs to her girlfriend and making small talk (most of the talk was on her end - it came naturally to her in the form of rambling, somewhat connected phrases and thoughts) before going off again to refill their drinks. 

Throughout it all he watched Jack. 

He couldn’t help himself. He wanted her - wanted to be near her, wanted to touch her and whisper in her ear. He wanted to feel the soft material of her dress as he ran his hands over her, wanted to bunch it up and slide it off her. He wanted to kiss her lips, her neck, her everywhere. Most of all, he wants to stand right by her, his hand on her hip, the whole night through. 

But he couldn’t - not without giving them away. They’d talked about this… this  _ thing _ between them. It was still new. Officially new, anyway. He’d been wanting this… wanting  _ more  _ out of them for a while now. Wanting, but never hoping. Not until she got angry and threw snow and kissed him. 

Now that he has permission to touch, to kiss and hold and laugh and be open with her, it’s all he wants to do. Which, at this office party with spiked eggnog and multi-colored lighting, was proving to be a problem. 

Several times in the last -  _ holy hell, it’d already been two hours since they got there _ \- Jack had met his eyes as he gazed at her. The first few times, he was met with a smile. Then her brow began to furrow. He knew she was thinkin’ that he was wanting to leave, or that he was trying to get her to do something, but he met each inquisitive look with a slight shake of his head. 

Then the looks changed again.    


They became heated, charged with something dangerous. It happened around glass three of the eggnog, one that Ducky had brought to him - no doubt a little stronger than the others - just before he left for the evening. 

One look, he gave her a little smile with heat behind his eyes. Intent. She knew that look. He watched as she smiled a little wider and went back to socializing. 

The next time their eyes meet, he dragged his gaze over her as she watched, imagining the full body flush that led to her cheeks turning pink. On it went, for minutes, a half hour, until he was feeling too hot for comfort. 

Gibbs looked down, contemplating getting another glass and trying to gather himself.  _ Eye-sex _ . Something Torres called two suspects who were disturbingly flirty with one another as they brought them in. That’s what they’d been doing all night.

He needed to stop listening to his team ramble. It wasn’t doin’ his mental state any good. 

But he  _ wants _ . He wants to touch, because he’s allowed. He wants to be touched by her, because she, for whatever reason or delusion or whatever, wants to touch him.    


But he  _ can’t _ , because they’re trapped at this damn office event. Purgatory. Hell. Mandatory Requirement.

“Hey, Gibbs.” Jack suddenly appears and sits next to him, sliding him another drink as she sipped her own.

He didn’t see her get the drinks or come his way, but he was glad she’d arrived. Gibbs was overly conscious of the space between them. Even in the darkened corner of the evidence garage, semi-sober eyes were everywhere, reading into everything. Well, the semi-sober eyes that were brave enough to analyze Gibbs, anyway. 

Instead of doing all the things he wanted to do with her at that moment (dragging her chair closer, kissing her dizzy, damn the audience) Gibbs took a pull of his eggnog and met her eyes with a leveled look. 

“Hey.” 

She’s flushed - from the party, from drinking, he didn’t care. She looked worn out from talking nonstop, probably offering counseling advice or something in each conversation. 

“Enjoying yourself in this dark corner?” She nudged his arm in a  _ friendly _ manner. “No one to fill up your dance card, Gibbs?”

“Nobody’s dancin’.” 

She looked for a second like she wanted to dance with him, like it was just on the tip of her tongue to ask him to sway to an old Christmas song sung by Sinatra, damn the party. Gibbs made a note to dig out his old records at home, maybe drag the record player down from the basement. He was sure he had some Sinatra for her. 

He was also sure that the brandy he’d been drinking all night was very, very strong. It hit different from his usual bourbon, anyway. 

“Too bad,” she says instead. 

Gibbs decided then to leave. He can’t keep looking at her all night, not if she wanted it to be  _ just looking _ . He stands and she looks startled at the movement. “I’m goin’.”

Gibbs put on his coat and started to the elevator, but stopped when Jack put her hand on his arm. He turned, taking in the sight of her open face, full of confusion. 

“We drove here together.” She tugged on his arm, drawing herself closer whether she was conscious of it or not.

“I’ll meet ya out by the car. Gotta get some air.” Sober up, get some distance from her looking like that in a room where he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’ll come with you, let me grab my coat.”    


“Don’t you think that’d be a little suspicious?” The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. He didn’t want to hide this, whatever it was, between them. Not in the building, not anywhere. Belatedly, he cracked a smile to hide his frustration.

She stopped and her grip on his sleeve tightened. The air around them charged with potential - potential of whatever was going to happen next. 

He didn’t expect her to kiss him. Especially not like that - full embrace, open mouth, longer than he felt appropriate for an office setting. Yet he wasn’t complaining. In fact, he was kissing her back, just as hard and just as soft, supporting her back as she dipped slightly, dragging the height of him with her. 

Gibbs wasted no time after they parted, leading her to her coat and to the elevator in record time. He was dazed, thrown for a loop and turned upside down, and only part of him could blame the brandy. He didn’t look at the crowd, not particularly caring if they saw anything or not. 

The elevator shut and Gibbs pulled her to him, unable to stop himself. He felt out of control but entirely safe as Jack melted against him. How many times had he imagined this exactly, in the elevator?

Jack broke off seconds before the doors opened to the main floor. “I think they saw us.”

She said it with a grin that he matched, otherwise his heart may have burst. “They prob’ly did.”

“Oh well.” The doors dinged and Jack stopped him from moving with a quick kiss, pressing up delicately on her toes to reach him. “We’ll just have to figure it out.”

With a wink she was out of the elevator, leaving him to trail behind her, struck half-dumb. He’d follow her anywhere, on any front. Even if it meant making a scene in front of a hoard of his drunk colleagues and running off. 

_ Oh, hell _ . He’d be hearing about this one come Monday. Too bad he didn’t care past getting to Sloane’s car and heading home that night. 


	5. Secret Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here be dragons. and by dragons, I mean the tropey-est thing in existence.

_ “You and Gibbs!”  _

Bishop had been pacing in her office for a solid minute before she burst out with that. Not that Jack had to guess - the rumor mill had quickly done its work over the weekend and she was met with knowing (and jealous) smiles that morning.

“Yes.” Jack affirmed, sensing that that wasn’t all Bishop had to say.

“But you! And… and Gibbs!”

“Is there a question hidden in that?”

“I just -- I can’t believe I missed it! I had to hear it from Janice at the security check-in, and she only saw it because Tracy from Accounting got the end of you guys - uh - you guys  _ kissing  _ \- on video--”

“On video? Wait a second--”

“Which she deleted because she didn’t want to get fired--”

“Smart,” Jack muttered, mentally adding a note to check in on this Tracy from Accounting.

“So I didn’t eve get to see!” Bishop flopped down in the chair in front of her desk and grabbed a green sucker, pouting. 

“That’s your problem with this? That you weren’t there to  _ see _ us kiss?” 

Bishop sucked on her treat, relaxing minutely as she thought about it. It didn’t take long. “Yes.”

Jack gaped at her. 

“Oh, come on! You can’t blame me for wanting a little proof! We’ve all been waiting for--” she cut herself off abruptly. 

“Um,” Jack said levely, “waiting for what, exactly?”

“Well, you know,” Ellie shifted in the chair, trying to find a deflection. Not looking directly at Jack, she muttered, “for mom and dad to get together.”

Jack didn’t have any words. On one had it was sweet as hell. She knew that the team looked up to Gibbs like a father, and to hear herself put on that level was wonderful. On the other hand, she was just told that the team had  _ talked _ about this - this - this  _ thing _ ! 

Her belief in the strength of her subtlety flew out the window. 

“I know what we should do!” 

The volume and excitement of Ellie’s exclamation threw Jack out of her thoughts, even though she had no idea what Ellie was talking about. “About what?” 

“About this!” Ellie sat up straight, the sucker nearly flying from her hand. “Another party.”   


“Ellie--”

“A secret santa - it’ll be perfect! Small, just us. At Gibbs’ house.”   


“I don’t--”

“Oh, come on Jack! You know he hated the office party.” Bishop locked eyes with her, using all the innocence and fun she could muster in a gaze. “He’s going to see the kids anyway, I heard McGee and Palmer talking about coordinating. We might as well make it an event. And there’s me, Nick, you…” Bishop trailed off, sticking the sucker in her mouth and keeping count on her fingers. 

A secret santa. Jack didn’t  _ hate _ the idea. She’d actually been thinking of a way to do something at Gibbs’. With the tree ( _ their _ tree) in the window and the fire, plus a few other things they’d dug up to decorate with, Gibbs’ place looked festive, inviting, warm. As much as she reveled in that feeling, she also wanted to share it. 

“There’s like twenty of us with the kids and dates, but I think if we do secret santa it should just be the adults - then whoever can give the kids presents just does it. So that would be…” Bishop began to count again. 

Jack was suddenly on board. This is just what they needed. Bishop was right, the party last week wasn’t much more than a work event and their team didn’t get that chance to decompress. Besides, Gibbs had initiated these great things already - the tree, sharing Christmas stories, what came  _ after _ the party… best not think about that at work. 

It was her turn, and she needed to take the reins before Bishop got too out of hand.    


“That’s eleven of us, if everyone comes. I can pass out the names if you want--”

“Whoa, hold on there Ellie. I haven’t even said okay to this, nor have we talked to Gibbs. It is his house after all.”

“Oh.” Ellie sat up again, looking a little chagrined, and Jack let a beat pass before she continued. 

“But I think it’s a great idea. We can do it the weekend before Christmas.”

Bishop’s answering smile was infectious, but Jack thought quickly. “Let me handle the name picking, and telling Gibbs. Well, I guess let me handle it!”

Ellie nodded along. “I can bring some finger food! And tell everyone to bring what they want. We should do it early in the afternoon, so the kids can come.”

Her excited ramble was cut off with a text that beckoned her downstairs. Before she left, Ellie stood and gave Jack a quick hug in her chair. 

Alone in her office again, Jack suddenly wondered if this was the best idea or the worst. Shrugging, and knowing that the wheels of party-motion were already rolling, she took out some paper and wrote down names for secret santa. 

_ Ellie. Nick. Tim. Kasie. Jimmy. Leon. Ducky. Tobias. Grace. _

Did they need more? She could add in Breena and Delilah, but it would be more simple to group them in with Palmer and McGee. 

And now she was overthinking secret santa. What the hell. 

Reluctantly, she added her own name and Gibbs’ to the list. She felt like she knew him well enough to know that he’d rather stay out of it, but she had a plan for that too.

Soon after she finalized the list and cut it up to put in a hat she got a call and needed to work on other things. She had to break the news to Gibbs first after all, so it wouldn’t hurt to wait a day or two.

-

Jack walked down the stairs with an NCIS cap in her hand. There was a crowd below her, milling about at her request. 

After she checked with Gibbs about the party (he didn’t take much convincing once his grandkids were mentioned, something Jack found entirely adorable), she sent an email to the masses with the invitation and instructions for picking names. 

The team, Kasie, Palmer, Ducky and Leon were all chatting, and she took a moment to look at them, soaking in the happy in having a found family. She would pick for Fornell and Grace after the others had their turn. 

Christmas was approaching quickly, but the Saturday afternoon was nearly an entire week before the day itself. Life-threatening case permitting, they would have an easy time putting it all together. 

“Alright! I’ve got the names, ah-bah-bah!” she knocked Nick’s grabby hand out of the way, “wait until I say the rules!”

“Yes mom,” Nick said immediately, mocking her. 

She brushed his comment off, rolling her eyes. “Simple.” She waited a beat until she had all eyes on her, aside from Gibbs who was watching the crowd from his desk. “You will pick one slip of paper. You can only return the slip if you got your own name. You must keep your secret santa - that’s right - a  _ secret _ , otherwise it’s no fun. And dollar limit is under a hundred. Questions?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Good. Now, pick!”   


Jack held the cap high above her head so no one could cheat, and before long they were all furtively looking at their names turned away from one another. Even Leon had gotten into the spirit, smiling to himself as he tucked the name away. 

Jack smiled. Everyone was distracted so she reached into her pocket discreetly. Walking over to Gibbs’ desk she mimed picking a random name out and held it to him, knowing full well it was her own. 

He took the slip of paper and read it with a smirk, not falling for her sneakiness for a second. Jack turned back to the crowd and ‘pulled’ another one from the hat, smiling to herself. “The last two are Grace and Fornell’s, so that it! See you all Saturday - and don’t forget to bring food!”

The team scattered, back to business so they could get done before the week was over. Jack had her own case reports to wrap up so with a wink to Gibbs she left for her office. 

-

Everyone showed up on secret santa day with smiles and food, just as she’d requested. Jack made sure everyone had cookies and something to drink, and once everyone got settled she decided to start the party.

It was chaos. Jack gave the signal for everyone to exchange gifts and it devolved rapidly into flying paper and loud thank-yous. Gibbs had retreated to her side and she leaned against him as they watched the gift giving unfold. 

“I knew you had me!” Bishop exclaimed, nearly pushing Nick into the fire. “You weren’t subtle at all.” She unwrapped a gorgeous, expensive scarf that would set off her hair perfectly. “I love it Nick, thanks.”    


Nick was dumbstruck as she hugged him, but quickly hugged back. Ellie immediately handed him a gift, smiling as he realized they had gotten each other.

“We’ll have to watch those two,” Jack muttered in Gibbs shoulder.

“Mmmhmm,” he hummed back, having no intention of doing anything to stop them. 

She patted his chest, restraining herself from calling him sweet out loud. Barely. 

Leon gave Ducky an old book on sea adventures. Ducky handed Palmer a set of vintage autopsy tools he’d “acquired in his schooling.” 

Palmer nearly cried, and then handed McGee vinyl of some obscure jazz musicians they both liked, and a book from Breena to Delilah. 

McGee gave Fornell a book on private sleuths, Fornell reluctantly handed Grace a tin of cookies he’d made -  _ “A man’s gotta have a hobby! Don’t look at me like that!” -  _ and Grace gave Kasie and Janet tickets to an art exhibit, Kasie gave Leon a very nice bottle of wine.

Jack leaned up to Gibbs and kissed his cheek, pulling back to ask, “Like your present?”

Gibbs nodded, smiling wide and looking at the people dearest to him gathered in his home.

“Thought you might. Even though it was re-gifted since the party was Ellie’s idea.”

They were silent for a while, watching their friends look over their presents and talk excitedly. After a few minutes, Jack couldn’t take it anymore. 

“So, where is it?”   


“What?” Gibbs asked, knowing full well what. 

“My present!”

Gibbs hummed, intentionally teasing her and she smacked his chest lightly from where her hand was resting. “Come on!”

“Later.”

Jack pouted exaggeratingly. 

Gibbs caught her eye intensely, halting her protests as teasing as they were. His voice an octave lower, he stated again, “ _ Later.” _

Jack visibly swallowed, flushing and feeling suddenly hot, and quickly retreated for the kitchen for some air. 

_ How quickly can I get all of them to leave, like, now? _ she thought, a little desperately. 

She spent a few minutes haphazardly moving things around in the kitchen and making herself a hot chocolate before rejoining the festivities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bishop is me, counting on my fingers like a madman. I had to made a chart for the gifts so I didn't forget anyone lmao  
> the party continues in the next chapter!  
> thank you all for your comments and kudos!!


	6. Mistletoe Kiss

Jack found a spot between the kitchen and living room where she could lean and watch everyone. Cradling the hot chocolate in her hand she surveyed the party. _This is what Christmas should feel like_ , she thought.

Nick, Breena, and McGee were on the floor playing with the kids. Victoria, besotted with Nick, was patient with the twins as they all played with the wooden toys Gibbs had made. Ellie had gotten up to grab a few more cookies for them all, but was on her way back to the play area. 

Palmer and Delilah were chatting about toy fads and how Christmas with little kids was so different. It made Jack ache, just a little, to hear their stories of first Christmases and talking about Santa with their children.

Fornell and Grace were arguing about something in the kitchen as they made Irish coffees and hot chocolates for those who requested them.

Leon was talking with Ducky, caught in a story that turned into a half hour lecture over the book he’d gifted, but he seemed to be enjoying it. Kasie and her girlfriend Janet were entertaining Gibbs, going two against one in a chess match by the fire. 

Jack loved this. She’d have to thank Ellie again for the idea (even if it had been forced upon her). She’d shown up early to help set up, and she’d brought extra cookies. Throughout the party Ellie had also been sneaking glances at Jack and Gibbs every time they got near each other.

Everyone was occupied with each other, talking over the crackling fire and the hum of old Christmas music. Speaking of, the record playing ended and Jack walked over to the player to flip it.

Gibbs had surprised her that morning. He dragged an old record player from the attic, fixed the wobbly leg and gave it a good dusting before dragging down a crate of vinyl records. She had watched him that morning dig through his collection, pulling out a short stack of Christmas and Christmas-adjacent records. She’d gaped at him before he shrugged and said something about the party and walked away for more coffee. It turned out perfect, the party feeling like a movie with The Nutcracker and Bing Crosby along with other classics.

-

Before long, the chess game came to an end. Head to heads it was a good match, Kasie and Janet bringing the academic smarts and Gibbs with years of practice thinking on his feet. So, naturally, Gibbs won. 

Kasie quickly took his spot when he stood and her and Janet set up the board for another game, talking through the rules of a speed-match. Jack smiled at their repartee - they seemed like a great match. 

Gibbs moved past her in the archway, a little closer than strictly necessary, not that she was complaining. 

“Want anything?” he asked, nodding to the kitchen.

“Just my present,” Jack said, batting her eyes cloyingly. 

Gibbs smirked and grabbed a beer for himself from the fridge, swiftly rejoining Jack in the doorway to watch the party. Just then, the record came to an end. Before Jack or anyone could move to flip it, Ducky rose and cleared his throat. 

“Ah, may I propose a toast?” He looked around as everyone settled. “We all have drinks, yes?”

A murmur of yes floated around the room.

“Excellent. Well. There’s quite a lot I could say about the people in this room, especially as we gather to celebrate Christmas, but I’ll keep this short, simple, and full of meaning.” Ducky paused and looked around the room, his eyes twinkling. He raised his glass and said, “To family!”

The room echoed the phrase, all feeling the warmth present around them, the love in the room. Jack’s heart swelled as she watched them again, overcome with the simplicity of this afternoon spent together. Ducky was right - they _were_ family and family, chosen or not, was something to be grateful for.

Everyone resumed their conversations, smiling a bit more in thanks and happiness, and Jack was pulled against Gibbs as they watched on. Jack shifted her position, turning to embrace him and letting him kiss her forehead - an echo of Christmas past. 

“Oh, _come on_!” Bishop exclaimed, making the room go silent for a moment. 

Jack froze, seeing that Ellie was literally pointing at them. Or, rather, right above them. 

“There’s mistletoe and everything! Kiss already!”

Fornell burst into laughter and so did a few others, the rest of them staring at Jack and Gibbs like they expected it. Jack looked at Grace for help but she just shrugged and mouthed ‘mistletoe.’ 

Jack shrugged, mentally saying _to hell with it_ \- because what did they have to hide, anyway? - reached up, grabbed Gibbs’ head, and tugged him down into a kiss that provoked audible gasps from their family watching, and at least a few ‘awwws’ and a couple of heckles from Fornell and Grace. 

It was perfect. A clichéd Christmas kiss under the mistletoe. Who woulda thought.

-

Jack locked the door when Fornell was finally gone, taking a deep breath at the relative quiet left behind. She turned, ready to start the clean-up process but instead found Gibbs bending over and fiddling with the record player. 

The light of the fire and the twinkling tree was all that lit the living room, something that Jack found absurdly romantic. The feeling was compounded when Gibbs gently placed a record on the turntable and gently dropped the needle. 

“Oh, Gibbs.” A swell of gentle music, instantly recognizable as Frank Sinatra, crackled from the vintage speakers.

Jack approached him, suddenly aware that _this_ was the gift he’d been talking about, the real one. 

_I’ve got you under my skin._

_I’ve got you deep in the heart of me -_

_So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me._

_I’ve got you under my skin._

Straightening nervously and not quite looking her in the eye, Gibbs asked, “Wanna dance, Sloane?”

Not trusting herself to speak, Jack just nodded, nearly thudding against his chest to get close enough, sliding her hands up to his shoulders as his found a home on her waist, starting a gentle sway at the plodding rhythm.

_I tried so not to give in,_

_I said to myself this affair never will go so well,_

_But why should I try to resist when baby I know so well -_

_I’ve got you under my skin._

It was unbelievably corny, completely cliche, and entirely lovely. Jack held him a little closer, feeling every word so clearly sung, confirming what a romantic Gibbs was at heart. Even if he was flustered and uncomfortable showing it sometimes - which, really, just made her love him more.

_I’d sacrifice anything, come what might_

_For the sake of havin’ you near, in spite_

_of a warning voice that comes at night_

_and repeats, repeats in my ear -_

_Don’t you know little fool you never can win_

_Use your mentality, wake up to reality_

_But each time that I do just the thought of you_

_Makes me stop before I begin,_

_Cause I’ve got you under my skin._

The song went into the bridge and Jack closed her eyes, trying to remember every facet of this day, this party, this very moment. She wanted it, come what may, for the rest of her life. Years from now, she needed the ability to take out this memory, turn it in her fingers and feel the weight of it, grasp every last feeling she couldn’t quite comprehend in the moment.

The song wrapped up and with its final notes, Jack rose up and kissed her man, putting everything she felt behind it.

With shining eyes, she broke away, seeing her own expression mirrored in him. Silently, they kissed again, unable to stop, unwilling to part as the next song begain and Frank sang with Nancy about “Somethin’ Stupid,” something that Jack could feel between her ribs, in the space surrounding them.

 _I love you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soft for Ducky and very soft for Sinatra. Go play "I've Got You Under My Skin" and think about them. And "Somethin' Stupid." And I vaguely referenced an Amy Lowell Poem called "September 1918"


	7. Watching A Charlie Brown Christmas (or other Christmas classic)

“How do you have five  _ different  _ Westerns starring Clint Eastwood on VHS and no Christmas movies?”

Gibbs shrugged from his position on the couch, fairly uninterested in Jack looting through his movie collection.    


He was usually content watching the fire or whatever showed up through his antenna when he was upstairs. Most of his time at home was spent in the basement or asleep, but that was slowly changing in the last few weeks. 

“We gotta get you a new TV, Cowboy. Something that plays DVDs or - God forbid - connected to the WiFi. Which we also need to get.” Jack’s voice echoed as she shifted, reaching into the far recesses of the bottom shelf where VHS tapes were haphazardly stored. 

Gibbs didn’t mind the view. 

Gibbs didn’t mind a lot of the last few weeks, actually. When they’d done this - gotten involved - he’d been worried. Hell, he’d been worried for two years about the possibility. At war with what he wanted and feeling like he couldn’t and shouldn’t have it wrecked his expectations. He’d rejected the concept of  _ when _ , expecting  _ never _ , and it had thrown him. 

But, yeah, he didn’t mind. 

She wanted WiFi and a big TV? No problem. He’d give her the boat in his basement if she just asked. 

That’s why he was in the living room in the first place. Jack requested a movie night, complete with ‘comfy clothes and bourbon and leftovers from the party.’ Gibbs felt that it wasn’t a cumbersome request, and it was too cold to work in the basement anyway. So he’d donned one of his USMC hoodies, sweatpants, and thick socks straight from the dryer, and flopped on the couch minutes before Jack came downstairs with a similar outfit.

He liked this part. If he had to analyze his relationship, which Grace was trying to get him to do, he’d say he felt comfortable around Jack. Comfortable with his job, with his past.  _ Nothing like a little shared trauma to bring people together,  _ Grace had said with a gentle smile.

“Ah ha!” 

Gibbs watched with interest as she backed out of the corner, the wiggle of her hips a little too suggestive to be accidental. She turned, still crouched on the floor, and held up a dusty and faded tape triumphantly. 

He squinted at the cover, recognizing it after a second. “ _ Die Hard _ ?” Didn’t she want to watch a Christmas movie? His face must’ve asked the question because answered it.

“ _ Die Hard _ is an excellent Christmas movie. It’s got action, romance, and holiday spirit.” She said the latter part with a touch of sarcasm.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.    


“John McClane is literally trying to make it home in time for Christmas!”

The eyebrow didn’t go down. 

“Hans Gruber is basically the Grinch!”

Gibbs took another sip of his bourbon, unconvinced but also wanting to see how far Jack would go. 

“Oh, come on! The dead guy with the santa hat and the sweatshirt,  _ ‘Now I have a machine gun, Ho-Ho-Ho!’ _ ?” 

Now standing with passion, Jack held her arms out in emphasis. Gibbs shrugged, outwardly apathetic but inwardly excited to watch  _ Die Hard _ , of all things, with Jack. 

In a flurry of movement Jack put in the tape, found the clicker to change the channel, and had the old trailers rolling as she cuddled up next to him. This was another  _ thing _ they did, the cuddling.    


Gibbs didn’t mind that either. 

How could he say no to his… his  _ Jack _ feeling comfortable next to him? He couldn’t, especially when he felt just as good, just as secure. 

The day before Jack had thrown a party, a secret santa thing, and it was one of the highlights of his year. Getting to see little Victoria and the twins, having everyone under one roof just taking a break from the job, it was priceless. 

And now,  _ Die Hard _ as Christmas entertainment. 

Jack was so different from every other woman he’d let in to his life it was startling. His last three wives nearly went insane for the holidays - decorating and putting on parties and airs just for show. That was always a point of tension with them, always another reason for them to resent his job, resent him. Not that he’d done anything to help smooth it over. 

But now it was Jack in his arms, on his couch, invested in  _ Die Hard _ and taking simple opportunities for movie nights and  _ togetherness, _ for God’s sake, for Christmas. 

Hell, he’d take Jack and John McClane over fake smiles and  _ A Charlie Brown Christmas  _ any day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter and the next few are all gonna be short and sweet!  
> also, nothing against A Charlie Brown Christmas!


	8. Snowed In

It was the silence that woke her. 

The silence and the  _ cold, _ because, holy  _ fuck _ it was freezing. 

It was dark outside and inside, which was odd. She’d fallen asleep stretched out on the couch opposite Gibbs, their heads on pillows where the two halves of the couch met. After  _ Die Hard _ they’d flipped through channels and actually ended up watching a  _ Charlie Brown Christmas _ , something she hadn’t watched in a few decades. It was followed by the news, then a repeat of a procedural, and that was the last thing she remembered. 

But now it was dark and cold, and Jack was confused because the tree should be on, and the furnace, but neither were. She looked at Gibbs sleep for a moment, blurry and in the shadow but soundly unconscious. He looked warm enough.

Half-asleep, she dug her phone out from under her and squinted at the light it produced. It was 4am. Ugh. The power must’ve shut off while they’d been asleep, so she checked her weather app. 

And her jaw dropped open. 

_ Eight? Inches? Of ice and snow? In the last few hours?  _

_ What the  _ absolute _ fuck?  _

Jack sat up and shifted so she could look outside, but it was all dark. The streetlights had been cut out too, and it looked like the power outage happened at least a block in each direction. Jack turned on her phone’s flashlight and lay it facedown on the coffee table, illuminating more of the room. 

Gibbs snoozed on. 

Jack was having one of those moments - the moment when, as a grown-ass adult person, you should know how to do something or handle a situation but you still felt completely unprepared and needing to find the adult in the room.    


She’d never owned a house! And definitely not in a climate prone to absolute _armageddon_ Was she supposed to be worried about the snow? The power being out? Oh, the fridge! The stuff in the fridge could go bad - how could she know? What about… what about the pipes? Could the pipes, like, freeze? And burst? 

She needed to wake the actual homeowner. And start a fire. Jack turned toward Gibbs and, suddenly feeling like a kid at a sleepover not wanting to wake the host to ask for water, she whispered. 

“Gibbs! Hey, Gibbs, wake up.”   


Nothing. Nada. He was out. The one time he was a sound sleeper… 

“ _Gibbs_!” 

Okay, that came out slightly louder than she intended, but it had the necessary effect. Gibbs woke with a slight start and blinked twice, likely noticing the same things Jack had in rapid succession. 

“Power’s out?” 

The rough voice he had just waking up set Jack’s nerve endings on fire despite the circumstances. “Yep.”   


“How bad?” Gibbs levered himself up to sit on the edge of the couch.

“Eight inches. Ice and snow. It’s 15 degrees. And still snowing.” Jack pulled the blankets around her, holding them close as she shivered in the dark.

“Great.” Gibbs stood, stretching as his joints cracked from disuse. 

Jack empathized. 

“Alright, you get a fire goin’, I’ll go shut off the water valve in the basement an’ run the sinks.” 

Jack watched as Gibbs lumbered toward the basement, stopping once to grab a flashlight and a second time to slip some shoes on. She took a second herself, trying to drag nonexistent heat from the blankets before starting up the fire again. 

-

Despite it being years since she last made a fire, Jack was successful and soon had a good one going. Gibbs came back upstairs with all the enthusiasm of a, well, an uncaffeinated Gibbs, and ran the kitchen sink.    


He appeared over her shoulder with a camping kettle and collapsable grate for the fire which she took without comment as he went to run the rest of the water. She stoked the fire, waiting for the kettle to boil. 

A few minutes later, Gibbs reappeared with two mugs in hand. What she first figured would be coffee turned out to be hot chocolate - one thing she made sure he kept in stock. She poured the water and stirred, then rejoined him on the couch. 

Gibbs settled a blanket behind them and around their shoulders, and Jack pulled another on their laps, passing him a hot chocolate once they were wrapped up.

Minutes passed as they tried to wake up more fully past the point of damage control and emergency maintenance. It was so quiet, Jack noticed. The crackling of the fire and Gibbs breathing were the only two sounds she noticed aside from the wind whipping through the trees. Jack took a deep breath, awash in contentment. 

“I like this, Gibbs.”

“Hmm?”   


“I know I’m ruining it by talking, but I like the quiet. The dark, the fire. You for company. It’s not bad.”

She watched him take in her words and smile in the firelight, and she smiled back. 

“Should take ya up to the cabin, then.”

Jack shifted a little closer to him, and he put his arm around her. “I’d like that, too.”

Gibbs kissed her hair and she melted inside. Suddenly unable to imagine any other future, she saw decades of nights just like this in front of her, stretching out in comfort and warmth, even at 4am in a snowstorm. 

“I like you too. In case that wasn’t clear,” Jack added.

Gibbs tightened his grip on her and she leaned into it.

“Yeah,” Gibbs sighed, and she felt it in her whole body. “I like you too, Sloane.”

Jack smiled into Gibbs’ soft sweatshirt, her mug almost empty. Silence easily took back its reign for a few moments before Jack spoke again, the sugar kicking in.    


“Think Leon’ll cancel school tomorrow?”

Gibbs snorted, making Jack laugh along with him. “We can always play hooky.”   


Jack gasped over-dramatically. “You? Addicted-To-The-Job-Jethro? Play  _ hooky? _ ”

“Aw, Jack,” he rolled his eyes. 

“How naughty,” Jack finished with a low voice. 

Gibbs turned back to her and without a beat replied, “Never said I was  _ nice _ .”

Jack shivered for another reason than the temperature. In fact, it seemed to be heating up quite nicely. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some sweet fluff for the two idiots who can't help but be soft around each other


	9. Christmas Dinner

Gibbs wasn’t sure when this tradition with Fornell started, but it was time once again for Christmas dinner. Christmas Eve Eve dinner. The eve before Christmas eve proper. 

Gibbs wasn’t entirely sure when his  _ friendship _ with Fornell started - when something borne from pity and spite turned into brotherhood - but Fornell and Emily became family, and thus he was invited to family events. 

Christmas-Eve-Eve was a tradition that predated his friendship entirely. It began as the Fornell family’s way of being alone - just the three of them - on the holiday. Christmas Eve would bring one side of the family, Christmas Day the other. 

After the divorce, Tobias got custody of Christmas-Eve-Eve for just him and Emily. Soon enough, it morphed into him, Emily, and Gibbs. And, for one memorable and now bittersweet year, Diane joined the three. 

This year the invite (though not fancy or even physical - a text reminder from Emily, actually) was sent to Gibbs  _ and _ Jack. “Gibbs and Jack.”  _ GibbsandJack.  _

“I formally through informal text invite Uncle Gibbs and Jack to the annual Christmas-Eve-Eve meal. Same time, same place.”

_ Huh, _ Gibbs thought.  _ Fancy that.  _

-

“Got any plans for Christmas, uh, Eve-Eve?” Gibbs cringed, rolling his eyes at himself and Fornell for the whole blasted ordeal. He could’ve phrased that better.

Jack raised an eyebrow at him - something she started doing ironically to mock him but had now become habit, he noticed - and gestured him fully into her office. 

It was four days before Christmas, two days since a freak ice storm, and nearly thirty days of them being…  _ them _ … and here they were with a jointly labeled invite to a family dinner. It felt absolutely, exactly right. 

Right in the way that its light in the morning and dark at midnight; in the way the coffee from The Diner is how he starts his day, in the way that there’s a project waiting for him in his basement when he needs it. It’s right beyond expectation and want - it just  _ is _ without all the unnecessary mess of things around it. 

“Christmas-Eve-Eve?” Jack was right to question him, to meet his eyes through their (her) reading glasses.

“Family dinner,” he offers. “At Fornell’s. Emily invited us.”

He watches her take in the words ‘family’ and ‘us’ and she smiles. She’d talked about this in depth with him, under the cover and relative safety that a late night spent sipping bourbon affords. All she’d wanted within the first few weeks of being here was to be a part of the family they’d so obviously created for themselves.    


Jack wanted to make sure her intentions were clear. She wasn’t sleeping with him for the fun of it (“ _ Not just for the fun, Gunny,” she’d joked,)  _ or to gain some sort of messed-up permanency in the lives of everyone at NCIS. She’d found a family here, and if somehow they didn’t work, she had no plans to run away from that. 

If he weren’t already in love with her, that would’ve pushed him over the edge. 

_ Gibbs and Jack. In love. _

He can’t bring himself to balk at the concept of the emotion. It’s too… right. 

_ “Sometimes things fall into place, Popeye. Same goes with people. Sometimes you just… click. No other shoe to drop, no double edged sword, no punishment for happiness. It can be as simple as that.” _

Simple as that. 

“I’ll be there with bells on. Metaphorically. Unless…?”

A look stopped that joke in its tracks. 

“Okay. Do we need to bring anything?”   


“Nope.”

“Great. My kinda party.”

Gibbs smirked but then just sat there. A month ago he woulda left after a question had been answered even if he had nothing else to do. Now he had reason to linger, if only to be near her a little longer. 

Yeah, alright, he had it pretty damn bad. But she wasn’t exactly kicking him out, either. 

Gibbs took a red sucker and popped it in his mouth, fully aware of what she’d read into the color choice. 

-

“So how did this  _ finally _ happen? Dad won’t tell me any details.”   


“That because no one told  _ me  _ details.”   


“So, Uncle Gibbs?” 

Gibbs stared blankly at Emily, not entirely wanting to get into it if he didn’t have to, but Jack was stuffing herself with mashed potatoes instead of taking the lead. He shrugged, took a sip of his drink, and answered.    


“She cussed me out, threw a snowball at my head, then kissed me.”

He was met with identical stares from the Fornells. Knowing full well they wanted clarification or explanation, he took the initiative and stuffed an entire roll into his mouth. 

By that time Jack had finished her potatoes and responded quickly. “I hit you with  _ some _ snow, in the chest, thank you.”

The stares moved to her and Gibbs relaxed minutely. 

“I’m sorry, you cussed him out? What did he do?”   


“Hey!” Gibbs tried to defend himself, but around half a roll his protest came out muffled. “What’d’ya think I’d deserve it?”

“He deserved it, believe me.”   


Gibbs gave up and tried not to choke on his roll, eyeing the chewy piece of steak on his plate for his next target. 

“And then you just…” Tobias trailed off, visibly cringing at his own interest. 

“Kissed him. It was either that or slap him.” Jack shrugged and started cutting up her turkey. 

Emily seemed to accept this story as law, and even though Tobias still had questions he kept them to himself, for the moment. 

A few minutes passed in relative peace, everyone invested in their meal and their own thoughts. 

“So,” Emily started, a mischievous smile on her face that no one at the table missed. She turned to her father and asked, “Who won the betting pool?”

Twin stares of wrath landed on Tobias. He simply put up his hands, feigning innocence or possibly asking for mercy.    


“Tobias… a pool?”

Fornell looked between the three of them, knowing he’d been caught, knowing he was backed into a corner. 

“Well,” he said a little shakily. “Based on the, uh, date, that’d be, uh,” he trailed off. 

_ “Fornell.” _

“Doctor Mallard, I believe.”

They stares got wider and Emily burst into laughter, marking this Christmas-Eve-Eve family dinner as one of the all time top five. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I use an ellipsis I hear gibbs saying “dot dot dot” out loud and Quinn going insane about it I love her.
> 
> I’d also like to think spellcheck because I was drinking while writing this chapter last night and so emotions happened in here and also who knows what else??? Hope you enjoyed!


	10. A gift someone has always wanted/wanted as a child

_ “Tell Santa what you want for Christmas, dear.” _

It was one of his earliest memories. A nonsense one, really - meeting a mall Santa as a kid. The only reason he had held on to it for so long was because of his mom’s starring role in the memory. 

Even as a kid, he remembered seeing how hard she worked and how tired she was at the end of the day. But she always, always made an effort with him and his father. She cooked, she made sure they had clean clothes for the next day, and she tried her hardest to make sure Jethro had a good childhood. 

After she died, Gibbs was angry. Of course he was angry. It was awful - the suffering she went through, the abruptness of it all. Gibbs was angry at the world, angry at his dad, angry at himself. He dedicated long, sleepless nights into remembering everything he could, calling up good memories, birthdays and vacations and Christmasses. 

Ann Gibbs  _ loved _ Christmas. 

She went full out. Cookies and sweets of every and any kind littered the month. Stockings were taken seriously, as were decorations. Their house, inside and out, screamed red and green and joy and peace and hope each year. A real Christmas tree, real garland, a real wreath. 

The pine smell is what helped him remember after all these years. It brought him back to Christmas dinners with more food that he could ever eat, the surprise of a new bike or wooden toy handcrafted by his dad. Brought him straight back to his mom’s happiness, infectious and lingering into the new year. 

And then she died.

-

For so long, Christmas was nothing at all. It was celebrated perfunctorily - acknowledged because there was no way to ignore it. December meant Christmas, one way or the other, and it was never, ever the same. 

-

Then, Shannon.    


Shannon liked Christmas. She saw the happiness in it too, not unlike his mom. Where his mother radiated it, Shannon amplified what was around her. Little trees meant just as much as big ones - little gifts just as much as large ones. With Shannon, Christmas was sentiment, light, and good.

Kelly changed everything.

Of course Kelly changed everything. 

She was too young the first few years to make a fuss. Then she was able to rip open presents, and Christmas became an absolute mess and highpoint of the year. Then tales of Santa and whispered secrets of being good made magic come into her eyes. Traditions began, composed of waiting up to hear reindeers on the roof, of chocolate chip pancakes Christmas morning, of the new thing he made her each year. 

For a few short years, Christmas was everything to him. He’d had to miss it with her twice, being deployed, but he tried so, so hard to be there when it counted. He knew those memories would be important. He had no idea how right he was. 

-

The ensuing years were tumultuous to say the least. 

Gibbs had largely come to peace with his life and choices. The gaping hole left after Shannon and Kelly… he’d tried to fill it. He was desperate to stop hurting - to do something with his life. 

NIS called him home. Mike Franks gave him a purpose. 

Then three ex-wives and several bitter, absent Christmasses occurred. Gibbs repressed every part of his past - every ache and every joy. He was a horrible husband and he deserved everything that came with that. 

His team helped him right himself, just by being there. Even in loss. Kate. Jenny. They were his family, his rock. He stabilized, through more trauma and pain, through Paraguay. 

A new lease on life. Who woulda thought it.

Then Jack.

-

Gibbs tried very hard to not think about Jack Sloane. It worked for about a day.    
She was damn annoying, to tell the truth. Bursting into his home, lying straight to his face, disrupting the natural flow of things. 

But she was… she was something else, too. 

Gorgeous, for one. A beautiful woman, inside and out. Deeply caring, but strong as steel. Sensitive and helpful, but only from a place of genuine empathy. There was nothing fake about her, nothing deceptive from him.    


They had more in common than not. 

And this Christmas, this December spent with her, well. It might be the best he’s had in nearly thirty years.    


“ _ Go on, tell him your biggest wishes! Who knows, you might find them under the tree on Christmas morning.” _

Gifts were nothing to him. He’d tell Santa that he just wanted her to stay. He wanted to go to sleep with her beside him, wanted to wake up and make her coffee, mounds of sugar included. He wanted to sit by the fire and talk about the snow, about nothing at all. 

Gibbs just wanted Jack for Christmas. And New Years, and Valentine’s, and as long as he could keep her and be kept in return.

-

-

Jack hadn’t been home in a few days. She was taking Gibbs’ open invitation to stay at his place seriously. The tree (their tree) was there, the fireplace, a few of her blankets. More importantly, Gibbs was there. 

But she occasionally had to go home for new clothes, to check mail, and to water the one peace lily in her house that refused to bloom. It was Christmas Eve, so she had to get her present to Gibbs as well. 

Sorting through her mail, Jack reflected on how different this year was. One tended to get caught in a yearly cycle of expectations and emotion to the point of it being an unconscious reaction. Decades out of college, Jack still felt a tense pressure rise in her shoulders around the time of finals each semester. She still felt the thrill and fear of her first week in basic training on the anniversary. She still felt a little well of apathy and tension each Christmas. 

But this Christmas was different. She had… she had Gibbs. She had a person to spend it with, to come home to on cold nights, to talk about anything and everything with in the firelight. The dark, tight part of her soul was actively being soothed by another human being, and Jack knew just how far that could go. 

Happy. It was Christmas Eve, and Jacqueline Sloane was happy. 

And it wasn’t the holiday, per se. She didn’t feel any differently toward the mass consumerism, the kitchy movies, the awful music, the red and green as far as they eye could see. It was Gibbs. 

If she’d gotten angry enough to kiss him in March, she’d be feeling this about St. Patrick’s Day. 

But Jack couldn’t discount the inherent coziness and feel of a winter romance. The fires were perfect, the cold hands touching until warm, the blankets and cuddling and the perfect excuse for staying in and having sex and just being together.

Christmas did add a certain complexity to it all. In the last two years, she’d given him nothing and then an excellent bottle of bourbon. This year she had no idea what to do after they’d so suddenly gotten together. 

It called for a big gesture. But, whirlwind romance, declarations of undying devotion, all that bullshit from Hallmark movies felt so hollow. The movies ended after the woman says yes to the proposal, after the magic of Christmas is revealed for all. But Jack knew that life went on after Christmas - there was a December 26th to think about. 

All she really knows is that she wants to get back to him, sooner rather than later. 

Jack waters her plant. She packs another bag. She pauses, goes through her mail, and opens a few Christmas cards. 

After one from Ducky, one from Abby, and one from Leon, she opens one she didn’t recognize the return address.

She bursts into tears. 

_ Hope you and yours have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. _

_ \- Faith  _

It’s all she ever wanted. 

She gathered herself, grabbed her bag, and tucked the card gently in her purse, careful not to bend the edges, and drove back home to Gibbs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have time to edit this but I hope you enjoyed! This chap is mainly a brief interlude before xmas eve/ xmas, and I went a direction with Gibbs' inner thoughts and Jack getting her gift.


	11. Christmas Eve

Miracle upon miracles, his team was off for Christmas. 

Leon had seen to it, actually. Being on call through the holidays for a few years in a row meant it was time to take a break, and this time Gibbs readily agreed. Albeit quietly. He had some image to maintain afterall. 

He could tell his team - and himself - needed a break. In the old days he preferred to work until he dropped, and then continue working from the floor. But the last handful of years Gibbs tended to play it smarter. 

Noticing signs of fatigue that lead to recklessness and wild emotions in his team meant he needed to send them home to sleep, or push them just a little further to get the job done. It was a delicate balance and one that needed longer breaks when they could manage it. 

Gibbs used to think that it was weak to need that break. That it was an excuse, a lack of courage and smarts. He pushed his team well past the breaking point and it did make them stronger, but it also hurt them. Conditioning agents to expect to be broken in order to solve a case can only lead to repetition. He had learned to lead them differently, push to extremes when needed and lean back too. He didn’t need a psychologist to tell him that breaks from work actually increased productivity and provided a clear head. 

And, of course, this particular year was different. He wanted to stay in and put his arm around his Jack and steal as many quiet moments with her as the universe allowed, and Christmas was the perfect excuse.

It was Christmas Eve. Gibbs readied the fire for steaks and noticed exactly how quiet his house was. 

This was how he used to spend his nights: Going home at the last possible minute to a quiet house. Sometimes, straight to the basement. Other times, fire, steak and old re-runs of westerns or the news. Then to the basement. He used to sleep on the couch, or in his boat. Sometimes he didn’t sleep at all.

And now the quiet and solitude was bothering him. 

Jack had gone to her house earlier to grab more clothes and water that one sad plant she kept trying to kill. Gibbs had been to her place a few times now, but they never stayed long. She had a moderately sized apartment, two bedrooms and a kitchen-living room combo that felt too open for Gibbs’ taste. The only good thing about it was that it was Jack’s. It smelled like her, her things lay around scattered in just enough chaos to be endearing. 

Yeah, yeah. He had it bad. 

Gibbs gave the fire one last look and rose from his crouched position, ignoring the way his knees protested. Halfway to the kitchen he heard the door open a little more violently than usual, admitting Jack. 

Before he could say hello, Jack vaulted across the room and wrapped him in a fierce hug. It took him a second to react, returning the embrace, and another second to realize that she was crying. 

Gibbs went on high alert, surveying the exits and points of entry around them as if they were about to be attacked. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

Jack answered with another sob, holding him almost painfully tight. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m fine I promise,” she said, trying to pull herself together. 

Her deep breaths were shaky at best, and Gibbs shifted his embrace from protective to soothing, running one hand up and down her back, the other holding steady on her neck. He’d never seen her like this. She’d been blown up, she’d seen her friend blown up, and she’d faced her monster and come back whole. 

Gibbs helped her walk to the couch and they sat down, still locked together. He just held her while she regained some sense of equilibrium, a million scenarios running through his head and driving him crazy with possibilities. 

Finally, finally, she leaned back in his arms and looked at him. Her face was all red and puffy but she was smiling. 

Jack took a deep breath and spoke. “Faith sent me a Christmas card.” She shrugged, laughing slightly at herself. “I - it caught me so off guard, and I don’t know why I’m crying like this,” she sniffed, gesticulating at nothing. “But, Gibbs, she reached out to me.”    


She said it with wonder in her voice and his heart swelled. Since he found out about Faith, he’d hoped that they could find some sort of connection. He could tell that it was what Jack wanted more than anything, and he could only support her for it. 

“That’s great, Jack,” he said softly. Her smile in response could get him through a year by itself.    


Twisting slightly out of his grasp, she pulled the envelope from the purse she still wore and handed it to him. Gibbs took out the card carefully and read the message silently, smiling as he put it back inside. Jack took it back with reverence. 

He waited a beat, sensing that she was about to talk. The fire warmed the living room and cast perfect little shadows over her face as she stared into it.

“You’re my family, all of you. Ducky was right to toast to us all at the secret santa.” Jack smile reflexively, her eyes still pensive. “I’m tempted to psychoanalyze us as a group, or even me and you, on loss and chosen family. Bonding as adults in a pseudo-familial structure while maintaining biological ties where present. Could make a paper out of it.”

Gibbs huffed out a laugh at the prospect of his team - his  _ family _ \- becoming a case study in some Psychology journal. Grace had made a similar joke a handful of times. 

“But I’m living it, and it makes so much sense to me.”   


Jack finally turned to him, breathing to gather strength at what she was about to say. He gave her his full attention.

“As much as I love that my biological daughter sent me a Christmas card, you’re the first person I wanted to share that feeling with. She said, ‘to you and yours,’ and I thought if you, and how you’re mine.”

Jack reached up with a shaking hand to rest on his cheek, bringing him a little closer. She kissed him lightly, a chase press of lips with the weight of the day behind them. Jack pulled back, just enough to look him in the eye.

“I love you, Gibbs.” 

He kissed her then, putting real feeling into it. It was the smile that came with the words, the words themselves. He had felt it in his old, scarred up heart for a while now, but hearing them, seeing her lips form the words - it rocked him in the best way. Gibbs separated them by a breath, just long enough to reply.

“Love you too, Jack.”

The steaks were forgotten, left to marinate in the fridge for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are tenses, really? Who needs consistency? If anyone asks, this is just my style of writing at this point - though I did attempt to fix it all.   
> One more chapter to go! What do you think we'll see on Christmas with these two?


	12. Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for a little more sap and Sinatra. not sorry about it.

Jack’s first December in D.C. was freezing cold. She was a California woman, and before that she was a soldier in a desert. But for the holidays that year, she wasn’t in D.C. at all. She flew halfway across the world with Torres on a mission that brought her back to her past, and brought part of her past back to her. It was a hot desert holiday that lasted so long and yet was over in a blink of adrenaline. She didn’t think about it too much. Jack needed to go - she needed to go _back_ and she did and that was all that mattered. 

Arriving with Senator Phillips in a wheelchair to see his son at Gibbs’ house was her first welcome back to Washington. Seeing them reunite, standing so close to Gibbs - she’d be lying if she hadn’t wanted to lay her head on his chest and be held. He cared so, so much about his cases, about the people involved. Jack loved him for it, even then.

Her second Christmas in D.C. was a little different. A child sold and reclaimed and given to a loving home. It only brought up more of her past within her, more that she’d been unwilling to say. What she most remembered from that case was the feeling of watching Nick and Ellie hand over the little guy to the adoptive family. 

Part of her wanted to rush over, make sure they were good people, tell them to treat him like a prince and love him every day. But she stayed by Gibbs, under his half-hug and searing forehead kiss, and she thought of Faith, of possibilities, and of the warm arm around her shoulders. 

-

Another year, another Christmas morning. This one was a little more settled, a little more warm and low key. Jack wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

For one, she woke up curled around a sleeping Gibbs. The soft light of morning was intensified, the sun’s rays scattering as they hit the lingering snow. The air was cool, but Jack was warm and reluctant to move lest she break her comfort. Seeing Gibbs like this, being allowed and even welcomed so near in his vulnerable moments, still awed her. 

She wasn’t entirely immune to his aura of Special-Agent-In-Charge he so easily commanded around NCIS. That’s why she’d chosen to sneak into his life under cover of a storm. Jack knew that it was at least part of an act, and at truth Gibbs was just a man.

A man she had so many things in common with, she didn’t know where to start the list. 

So when she first was allowed in his bed, part of her expected this macho-mysterious vibe to continue behind closed doors. Swept off her feet, breath taken away, the whole nine yards. But, while she wouldn’t necessarily dislike that option, the truth of it was so much better. 

He was gentle. Gentle in a way that he was trying to protect himself and her. He wanted to make sure she was serious about this whole _thing_ between them before they could get hurt. Gibbs made it clear that he was serious too, and it took all of four seconds for his declaration to sink in before she kissed him again. 

The thing that really stood out to her from that night - aside from the _excellent_ sex they’d had - was the laughter.

Jack had seen Gibbs laugh before. Poker nights brought out his mirth, and she’d said a few jokes to him that caught him off guard before. But that sweet, soft laughter he shared with her as they fumbled their way around each other that night was everything.

It was like this moment in bed, waking up next to sleeping Gibbs. It was honest, bare, and endearing as hell. She wanted to wake up like this every morning. 

Gibbs shifted in his sleep, a little more in contact with Jack, and she shifted in tandem to bring her head to his shoulder, closing her eyes in hopes of a little Christmas lie-in.

-

Their lazy Christmas morning lasted until roughly 8am. Which, for them, was pretty lazy. 

Gibbs kissed Jack with sleep-chapped lips, muttered something about hitting the head and coffee, and left the bed. Jack listened to him putter around, her eyes closed as she mentally followed him downstairs. Soon enough, she convinced herself to get up and start the day, throwing on one of Gibbs’ hoodies she’d claimed as her own over her pajamas as she went downstairs. 

Once in the living room, she stopped in her tracks. 

“Did you get me a TV!?” Jack stood shocked in front of the new addition. “How the hell did you get it in here without me knowing?”

She could hear Gibbs laugh from the kitchen and she joined him after taking another long look at the TV. It was more than just a TV, she could feel it.

“Ya like it?” Gibbs asked, handing her a cup of what she knew would be perfectly-sugared coffee. 

She inhaled some of the coffee, making sure that the concept of Gibbs buying a new piece of technology wasn’t the remnant of a dream, and nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” They both wandered back into the living room. “Shoulda seen McGee’s face when I asked him to help pick one out.”

Jack laughed at the idea, knowing that McGee would’ve been entirely excited and confused at the opportunity. “Did he set you up with WiFi too?”

Gibbs gave her a mock glare that said _Don’t push it_ , which answered her question. Maybe she’d convince him about the quality of streaming services in the new year. 

Jack found the remote and clicked on the TV, watching sneakily as Gibbs was immediately entranced by the largeness and clarity the TV provided. “Look - we’ll be able to see the looks on the Midshipmen’s faces when they lose yet _again_ in the Army-Navy game. Now, that’s quality TV.”

“In your dreams,” Gibbs huffed adorably.

“More like your reality,” Jack threw back, knowing she was right and enjoying that entirely too much. She snuggled back into his side and flipped through the channels. Even if they were still operating on a limited antenna array, the digital channel offerings were twice as many as his own TV could’ve managed.

Jack settled on some Christmas-themed movie. “Thank you for my gift, Gibbs. Now I can bring over some of my DVDs for us to watch.” 

Gibbs muttered something Jack didn’t quite catch, and she nudged him until he looked at her. She pretended not to noticed the tinge of pink to his cheeks, although it made her infinitely more curious. He shrugged, getting that adorable flustered vibe he always had when discussing personal or emotional things. 

“Come on Cowboy, what is it?”

Gibbs looked everywhere but her as he spoke softly but steadily. “You could bring over more than just movies, Jack. If ya want to?” His eyes landed on hers. 

Jack, stunned again on Christmas, stared blankly for a moment. “What does that mean, Jethro?” Her question was just as quiet as his.

Gibbs shrugged ineffectively. “Ya know. Been stayin’ here a lot, might as well make it a little easier, if ya, I don’t know. Move in.”

If Jack didn’t expect a new TV for Christmas, she sure as hell was thrown with this. Not in a bad way, though. Not at all. 

“You’re asking if I want to move in with you?” Jack could feel him tensing up, ready to run if needed, so she hooked an arm around his to anchor him down. She’d never been asked to move in with someone before, and she needed the grounding just as much.

“If ya want to.”

Jack kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, ready to say goodbye to her sad apartment and more than ready to wake up every morning next to Gibbs.

-

Later, after Skype calls to DiNozzo and little DiNozzo, Christmas lunch and dinner, texts from family, Jack revealing the bourbon she’d gotten them both, a few calls here and there, and Jack nervously sending Faith her wishes for a happy Christmas, they were in their usual spot by the fire. 

Gibbs put on a record, saying something about wearing out the new TV on the first day, and they cuddled up to watch the snow fall and the fire burn. Sinatra crooned over trumpets, and Jack wanted to live in that moment forever.

 _Every kiss, every hug  
_ _Seems to act just like a drug  
_ _You're getting to be a habit with me_

“I don’t think I’ve done this much nothing for a whole day in a long time,” Jack admitted. “It feels weird.”

“Didn’t think what we did upstairs earlier was nothin’, hun.”

Jack blushed and rolled her eyes at his comment. 

_Every kiss, every hug  
_ _Seems to act just like a drug  
_ _You're getting to be a habit with me_

 _Let me stay in your arms  
_ _I'm addicted to your charms  
_ _You're getting to be a habit with me_

The day had been a lot of everything, actually. Just the opposite of how they usually spent their time. Emotional responsibility weighed on a person, even for a day. Jack made several little comments about putting her things here and there, triple checking that Gibbs was serious. At one point Gibbs had pulled her close, kissed the top of her head, and said she could put her stuff wherever she wanted, or paint the damn house purple, or build a shrine to her damn plant if she felt it necessary.

 _I used to think your love was something that I could take or leave alone  
_ _But now I couldn't do without my supply  
_ _I need you for my own_

 _Oh, I can't break away  
_ _I must have you every day  
_ _As regularly as coffee or tea_

“You make me so happy, Gibbs.” The words slipped out unheeded and heavy with their simplicity. Gibbs tightened his arm around her and met her kiss. 

_You've got me in your clutches  
_ _And I can't get free_  
 _You're getting to be a habit with me_

Jack felt warm in the pervasive chill of the season, comforted and protected in a way only Gibbs managed to project, and suddenly she could see future Christmases stretched out before them, infinite in their variety, steady in their place in front of the fire. With everything in her heart, Jack squeezed her eyes shut and made a wish to the big man himself - whether that be God or Santa Claus - that they could have this as long as they wanted. Forever, if it wasn’t too much to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Sinatra's "You're Getting to be a Habit With Me" and imagine the Slibbs happiness.  
> Thank you all so much for your comments and support the last twelve days! I hope this story was coherent and that you all got an overdose of the warm fuzzies for the season.


End file.
